


mixtape (how kellin lost vic)

by inkk



Category: Bandom, Bring Me The Horizon, Pierce the Veil, Sleeping With Sirens
Genre: Angst, Car Accidents, Death, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Loss, M/M, Mixtape, Moving On, not really a songfic but kind of i guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-06
Updated: 2018-01-06
Packaged: 2019-02-24 03:52:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13205328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkk/pseuds/inkk
Summary: It's almost funny, how quickly an instant of sharp force trauma to the skull can cleave a lifetime in half: the Before and the After. A car skids out of control, bone shatters, a brain swells, a siren sounds, and then there is nothing. Nothing to be done, nothing to be said, nothing.It's six months after. Kellin can't stop making the mixes.





	mixtape (how kellin lost vic)

**Author's Note:**

> TW for character death.

Six months after, Kellin can't stop making the mixes.

It's almost funny, how quickly an instant of sharp force trauma to the skull can cleave a lifetime in half: the Before and the After. A car skids out of control, bone shatters, a brain swells, a siren sounds, and then there is nothing. Nothing to be done, nothing to be said, nothing.

Nothing.

In an instant, a tiny bulb blinks out and Kellin is lost in the dark without a lighthouse.

It's six months after. Kellin can't stop making the mixes.

 

+

 

_"This is for you," Kellin says, handing over a thin, brown-wrapped square. His cheeks are an exhilarated pink as they stand under the streetlights by Vic's car._

_Vic grins. "What, really? Third date and you're already trying to be my sugar daddy?" He accepts the little package. Kellin bounces on his toes as Vic's fingers nimbly unwrap the CD. He looks at it for a second and says, "Woah, Kells. You made this?"_

_"It's dumb," Kellin rushes out, nodding. "Okay, I know it's dumb, but I-- you said you like music, and--"_

_"It's perfect," Vic gently cuts him off. "It's... Wow." He traces his fingers over the title -_ Songs for Vic _\- and tucks the wrapping paper under his arm, cracking the clear CD case open to look at the list of songs written in Kellin's messy printing. "Wow, Kellin. Thank you."_

_Kellin grins, biting his lip. "It's stupid. Um, yeah." He looks down at his dirty shoes._

_Vic steps forward, circling both arms around Kellin's back and pulling him into a hug. They stand there for a second and then he pulls back just enough to press a kiss to Kellin's cheek._

_"It's not dumb," he says. "Thank you."_

It's how it all starts.

 

+

 

From then on, Kellin makes mixes for Vic all the time - first Christmas, then his birthday, their six-month anniversary, their one-year anniversary, when they graduate high school, when they move in together, for Vic's commute to work. Sometimes they're as short as five or six new indie songs he's recently discovered; sometimes they're longer. Sometimes they'll feature podcasts or slam poetry.

As far as Kellin knows, Vic has listened to each and every song he's given him. They're on a shelf in the bedroom, on Vic's nightstand and spilling from the glove box of his car into the door pockets. Vic will leave sticky notes on the inside of the cases to remind himself of the track numbers he particularly enjoys.

Now, Kellin stands at the foot of the bed ( _their_ bed) and stares blankly at the shelf of plastic jewel cases, each spine inscribed with affectionate little titles in his own writing, but the tears don't come anymore. His hands curl uselessly at his sides.

 

+

 

_"I'm still here hoping that one day you may come back."_

 

+

 

Kellin finds himself writing down songs for mixes when he hears them. After four years, it's become an unshakeable habit.

He listens to classical these days; dark, swooping piano pieces that leave him feeling empty inside. He goes to work for eight hours a day and comes home without remembering a single fucking thing that happened. He's also lost weight, but not in a remotely positive way. Kellin's cheeks are sallow and his clothes hang off of him oddly. When he does manage to convince himself to eat, it's coffee and a muffin or maybe a bowl of soup. He doesn't do dishes anymore, either - they're piled up on the counter around the sink, a couple in the unused dishwasher; more reminders of things he can't do right now. 

(There's an untouched bottle of antidepressants that Kellin can't bear to look at. Won't look at. Can't even bring himself to entertain the possibility of taking too many and seeing Vic again.)

Jesse and Justin and Gabe come to visit (read: take care of) him about once a week. They come over on Sunday to do his laundry, tidy the apartment and force him to shower, and Kellin musters up the emotion to be thankful - without them, he probably would have imploded by now.

It's seven months after. Kellin can't stop making the mixes.

 

+

 

Kellin is on the subway train, staring blankly ahead as music plays from his headphones. They're the crappy Apple ones, not his good ones that Vic bought him for Christmas last hear. Kellin doesn't even want to think about those. He doesn't want to think about Vic and Christmas and how they didn't know it would be their last one together, how it should have been perfect and Kellin should have kissed him more and they should have had more time and--

No.

Kellin inhales, clears his throat and closes his eyes, leaning against the wall of the car. Around him, people shift their balance as the train jostles gently to and fro.

 

+

 

It's 1:42 AM and the brightly coloured jewel cases are winking at him from their shelf. Vic's side of the bed is cold, just like it always is. Kellin is lying on his back, staring up at the ceiling, wondering what the last song Vic heard was. Maybe it was the radio. Maybe it was one of the mixes. Vic's car was nothing but scrap metal after the accident, and Kellin had barely been able to look at it, let alone check which CD was in the player when that semi lost control.

A cold, wet trail snakes its way from the corner of Kellin's eye and down the side of his face, dropping into the hair at his temple. He wipes it away, unable to stop imagining the headlights of the giant, swerving truck and the screech that Vic's car made upon impact, airbags inflating futilely as the driver's side crumpled and smashed with him in it.

 

+

 

Vic was warm light. He was spicy food and weird music and dark, expressive eyes. After being together for so long, Kellin almost doesn't remember how to function without him.

This is what he tells the bereavement group, anyways. He only realizes it's true once the words start pouring out of his mouth like a rain after drought. It's his fourth time coming to a meeting, but his first time actually introducing himself. His voice starts to quiver and shake as he talks about "how Vic-- how he-- well. It was, um, a car accident. Some idiot in another car fell asleep at the wheel and now-- now he's gone. Th-the other driver only broke his arm and leg."

(A couple scratches and a few broken bones as penance for taking a life because he didn't stop and wonder if he was wakeful enough to drive.)

There are bowed heads around the room. Kellin clears his throat and sniffs, wiping at the raw, pink skin under his eyes. "Um, yeah. That's all."

"Thank you for sharing, Kellin," Justin - the group leader - says after a beat. "Oliver, do you feel like sharing tonight?"

The young man beside him shifts and clears his throat. "Sure," he says, voice accented. He looks down at his tattooed hands. "Uh, so. Short version. My daughter was diagnosed with stage four bronchial cancer when she was three. She passed on two years ago, and I--... I don't talk about it much. My wife had the baby when she was eighteen and neither of us were ready to deal with raising a kid, let alone a situation like that. Um, it didn't work out." He bites his lip and looks blankly at the floor. "We finalized the divorce last year. Sometimes... I dunno. Sometimes it feels like the cancer took both of them away from me. So... I come here sometimes."

He coughs again into the silent room, and Justin thanks him. "Lynn, would you like to share tonight?"

The rest of the voices and stories merge together after that. An older woman whose husband passed away from a respiratory infection, a woman who lost her husband to a jealous ex with a shotgun, a man whose girlfriend was killed in a rock-climbing accident. A woman who had a sister who died from breast cancer. Another man who lost his brother in a drunk driving altercation.

The sadness and the pain all seem to melt into a conglomerate of suffering, some of it a decade ago, some of it within the past six months, and all of it bleak. Kellin drifts through the rest of the meeting, focusing on his feet. He barely registers Justin wrapping things up with simple affirmations, and his head snaps up when people start putting their chairs away.

The man next to him - Oliver - reaches over and gently touches his shoulder. "You good?"

"Yeah," Kellin nods, "Yeah. I'm fine."

Oliver smiles. "You did well, tonight. I know it's not easy to share for the first time."

"Oh," Kellin blinks, rubbing his nose. "Yeah. Um, thanks. I'm... sorry about your daughter."

"I'm sorry about your boyfriend," Oliver says, a crooked half-smile on his face. "Now that we have the pity-party out of the way, hi. I'm Oli." He extends one inked hand for a shake.

"Hi," Kellin blinks, taking it. "I'm Kellin."

 

+

 

A month later, it's 1AM and Kellin doesn't know why he's driving. There are snowflakes coming towards him out of the dark, appearing and pelting his windshield in streaked lines. He's reminded of the Millenium Falcon going into warped speed.

 _Vic loved Star Wars_ , he thinks idly. He and Tony would always marathon them together. Kellin never really made it through all three original movies without falling asleep.

He gets lost in his thoughts; that's when the car slows considerably and yanks to the left, across the oncoming traffic lane. Kellin panics and muscles the wheel back to the right. The car resists, but he manages to get back into his lane and then over to the shoulder of the highway, stopping to breathe heavily. A car whizzes by with a long, panicked honk and then there's no one coming. Kellin blinks and steadies his breath. _What the fuck?_

He checks both ways on the dark road and then cracks his door, stepping out to confirm that yes, he does indeed have a blown-out tire. _Fuck._

He walks a yard away and stands for a few minutes, shivering. A car approaches and he holds out a hand, but the driver doesn't even slow down. He repeats this a couple times before giving up. Kellin tries to wrack his brain for any information related to changing a tire, but it's futile. Vic was always the handyman. By now, his hair is wet with snow and his thin jacket is holding barely any warmth.

Kellin pulls out his phone. He checks if any cars are coming, then squints down at his screen and pulls up his contacts. His heart lurches when he flicks past Vic's name and suddenly his eyes are prickling with unshed tears. He rubs them away, feeling pathetic, and selects Oli's contact, hitting 'call'.

It rings three times and then a groggy voice says "Kellin? Is... Are you okay? What's wrong?"

"Oli," Kellin says in relief. "I--... I blew out a tire. I just-- I'm sorry." He's halfway crying, his voice threatening to crack. "Can you come get me?"

"Where are you?" Oli replies. There's rustling on his end, like he's getting out of bed.

"Um, I'm... Kellin squints into the darkness. "I think I'm... I'm on Route 99, somewhere before exit 35?"

"Okay, I'm coming," Oli says, sounding alert. His voice muffles and he says, "Stay there, I'll be over as soon as I can."

"Thank you," Kellin says quietly. "I'm sorry. Thank you."

There's a pause. "Don't mention it," Oli finally says, "I'll be right there."

Kellin takes a deep breath and hangs up, another 'thank you' stuck on his tongue. He stands a ways back from his car, tucks his hands into his armpits and waits, his feet and jacket getting progressively more covered in snow. He watches the cars come and go, hoping that one will stop and Oli will be there.

 

+

 

They don't talk on the way back. Kellin is wrapped up in his thoughts to the point that he can't stand the silence anymore. He reaches over and turns the radio on just to have something to fill the air.

"I'm sorry," he finally says, the music playing softly. _Sorry for what?_

"It's alright," Oli says, looking over with assessing eyes. They flick back to the road. "Why were you out driving at one in the morning, anyways?"

Kellin shrugs. "I don't know," he says honestly. "I... I don't know. I don't sleep much since--... Well, you know. Sometimes driving helps." He sniffs miserably and clears his throat, blinking hard.

"It's only been, what, ten months?" Oli says gently. "You're allowed to let yourself grieve."

Kellin turns his face away. _Ten months._

"Hey, are you--? Shit, I'm sorry."

"It's fine," Kellin sniffs. "It's just... I can't believe he's been gone for that long. I don't... I don't know. It feels like he was here yesterday and I can _hear_ his laugh and I just--... I can't move on because he was m-my whole life, and..." He's full-on crying now, his breathing shallow and shaking. "I'm sorry. I've just been thinking so much."

"You don't have anything to be sorry about," Oli shakes his head. "Look, I've been there. It fucking sucks. But the only way you're going to get through this is if you actually let yourself feel what you're feeling." He exhales and says, "You can't numb it out forever, Kellin. Not with alcohol, or drugs, or sleep or sex." He laughs. "Believe me, I've tried. After Ayla... I wallowed for a year, and then... well, I picked myself back up." Oli clears his throat. "She wouldn't want her old man to do that to himself. And Vic... He wouldn't want this for you either. Not like this."

Kellin wipes at his cheeks and laughs hollowly. "You're right."

 

It's been ten months, now. Kellin still can't stop making the mixes.

 

+

 

_Oli [1/12, 3:54AM]_  
i can't sleep. do you want to talk about last night? 

__

__

_Kellin [1/12, 3:54AM]_  
i cant right now im sorry i just cant 

__

 

+

 

A little more than a month later, Kellin wakes up on February tenth with his heart feeling like a chunk of ice in his chest.

 

_"Happy Birthday, baby."_

 

+

 

 _Oli [2/14, 9:59PM]_  
you ok? you missed group again tonight 

__

__

 

+

 

 _Oli [2/26, 1:22PM]_  
haven't seen you in a while. how are things? 

__

__

_+_

_Oli [3/09/, 7:36AM]_  
are you there? 

__

__+_ _

__

_Kellin [3/21, 8:38AM]_  
hey. i'm here  
i'm sorry, things haven't been easy lately  
it's been a full year now and i don't know what to feel 

_Oli [3/21, (9:04AM]_  
that's ok. you want to talk?  
coffee? 

__

_Kellin [3/21, 9:05AM]_  
yeah  
i think i would 

__

__+_ _

__

__

__+_ _

__

_For Vic. Always._  
1 - Moonlight Sonata (1st movement) - Beethoven  
2 - Not About Angels - Birdy  
3 - Old Friend - Angus  & Julia Stone  
4 - Air on the G String - Bach (string orchestra)  
5 - Ocean Breathes Salty - Modest Mouse  
6 - How Can I Help You Say Goodbye - Patty Loveless  
7 - Complete Nocturnes (Brigitte Engerer) - Chopin  
8 - Heal - Tom Oddell 

__

It's a year after. Kellin takes a deep breath, turns the volume up and presses play. 

__

_"I turned around and you were gone,  
and I'm thinking of you (thinking of you)."_

__

__

__+_ _

**Author's Note:**

> find me on tumblr @shotgunmessiahs


End file.
